Let me paint you a picture. Say your entire life, the only food you wanted or were allowed to eat was chocolate ice cream. I mean, you ate
SO
M
U
C
H
chocolate ice cream, on so many occasions, that you even perfected ways to enjoy it. You had discovered special methods to not only eat but savor your ice cream, making it seemingly impossible for another food (even if you were allowed to have it) to satisfy you equally.
And then. One dark and stormy weekend, all of the chocolate cows contracted a mysterious computer virus and were dead within 36 hours. Whatever will you do? No chocolate cows = no chocolate milk = no chocolate ice cream. Truly, I guess you’re fucked.
Because imagine knowing you need sustenance to survive, but after near-perfecting your enjoyment of chocolate ice cream; of making consuming it an almost orgasmic and wholly satisfying experience, the act of eating anything else would seem dauntingly dismal.
What’s a girl in a world without chocolate cows to do?
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